


South Park Drabble Bomb October 2018

by PBJellie



Category: South Park
Genre: Broken Bones, Canon Era, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Drug Use, Field Trip, M/M, Owls, Two and on are not cannon age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-06 19:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16394048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: Fills for the first two prompts of the 2018 October Drabble Bomb.





	1. Day One: Dreams

“No, I'm gonna have to pass on the zoo, m’kay, PC Principal,” Mr. Mackey mumbled, picking at the skin around his hands. “Me and the animals, we don't get along too good, m’kay?”

“I'm short on chaperones Mackey, and though it may be ageist, the kids can't watch themselves,” PC Principal responded, sunglasses on in his office. 

“Yeah, well, m’kay, you see, I'm just not a good chaperone, m’kay?” Mackey shifted on his feet, brown loafers lifting off the floor only to fall back down. “Uh, how about, maybe Strong Woman can do it,” he mumbled, regretting the words the instant the glasses were moved upward on PC Principal's face.

“Strong Woman has her hands full! Women are equal to us, Mr. Mackey! You can't just expect women to sit and watch children all day. Men are just as capable of chaperoning. Do you have a problem with men watching children? I'll have you know I'm a very capable manny. Do you think that men aren't capable?” 

“Uh, no, no PC Principal,” Mackey trembled, biting his lip as it dawned on him that there was no avoiding this field trip. “I think men are capable, m’kay. It's just that, I- never mind PC Principal, I'll just be the chaperone, m’kay?” 

Principal Victoria wouldn't have made him do this shit. Principal Victoria would have understood. He never should have ratted on her.

And that’s how Mr. Mackey found himself on the bus with the fourth grade class, sitting right in front of Eric Cartman. 

“Cartman, as your chaperone, m’kay, I’m gonna need you to stop flicking spitballs at my head, m’kay.” 

“Mr. Mackey, as a student, m’kay, I wasn’t throwing spitballs, m’kay,” Cartman said with a smile. 

“Mmkay, just don’t do that, because that’d be bad, mmkay?” Mr. Mackey suffered for the rest of the trip, spitballs landing on his bald spot, then sliding down his shirt. He jumped when the breaks popped in the parking lot.

“Everybody off the bus, m’kay? It’d be good to stay in a line, m’kay. Orderly fashion, m’kay? Don’t crowd the door, that’d be bad. Form a line, m’kay?” He watched as the kids filtered off the bus, with Eric hanging around the front door.

“Mr. Mackey, I want you to chaperone our group,” Eric said, showing all his teeth in a smile and waving. “We want to see the birds of prey. Won’t that be neat, Kyle?” 

“Dude, don’t do this,” Stan sighed. Mr. Mackey left the bus, shaking his head. 

“No boys, I don’t think that’s a good idea, m’kay. I don’t want to see the birds.” 

“M’kay, Mr. Mackey,” Cartman mocked, “we’re gonna see the birds or we’re gonna tell PC Principle that you said men can’t be nannies, m’kay?” 

“I’m not telling PC Principal shit,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Come on, dude, let’s go join Wendy’s group or something.” 

“Mrph, mrph, mmm, mph,” Kenny said, waving goodbye to Stan and Kyle as they walked away. 

Somehow, Mackey found himself stuck with Eric Cartman, Leopold Stotch, and Kenny McCormick as they made their way to the birds all the way at the back of the zoo. 

“I can’t wait to see the owls!” Eric grinned from ear to ear as he looked back at Mr. Mackey. 

“Can we not see the owls, m’kay?”

“I like owls,” Leopold chimed in. “Did you know that owls poop out bones in little pellets? Last year my mom got me a science kit where you get to take apart the pellets with tweezers and see all the little mice bones. Isn’t that neat-o?” 

Kenny nodded as Mr. Mackey gulped. 

“What if we see the tigers, instead? Uh, I think that big cats are much better than dumb old birds, m’kay.” 

“I’ll tell PC Principal if we don’t get to see the owls. I’ll tell him that you think all Asian people look the same. You don’t want that, do you?” Eric turned around, eyebrows raised as he stared into Mr. Mackey’s soul. They were going to see the owls that day; there was no doubt about it. 

“I wonder how big owls are in real life,” Butters thought aloud. Mackey didn’t comment on the unnecessary hand holding between Butters and Kenny. He was sort of in shock that the boys mittens were off. It wasn’t even cold out, but he wore that parka, like he always did. If he wasn’t scared shitless by the prospect of seeing owls, he might have thought that now would be a good time to pull him aside and ask if his parents were beating him. 

“I hear some owls are as big as people,” Cartman chuckled. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Mackey?” 

“I don’t really know that much about owls, m’kay. Uh, I’ve never had any encounters with owls, not that I can remember,” they walked past a stray Hershey's chocolate bar wrapper and Mackey reached down and shoved it into his front pocket. 

“Give a hoot, don’t pollute,” Eric coughed out under his breath. 

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you, m’kay.” 

“Oh nothing, you’ll see when we get there, won’t you?” Eric laughed to himself, like he had just told a grand joke, as they entered the avian exhibit. “Look! That dudes got an owl on his arm!” 

“Mrph!” Kenny exclaimed, pointing at a man in head to toe khaki holding a large brown owl. 

“Neat-o! That’s a pretty big owl, ain’t it, Mr. Mackey?” Butters turned around when he asked that question but Mr. Mackey had already raced across the distance and punched the handler straight in the balls. 

“Fuck you, Woodsy Owl, m’kay! I’ll put trash wherever I damn well want to, m’kay!” Mr. Mackey kicked the man in the shin as the bird flapped wildly near his face. 

“What’s wrong with Mr. Mackey?” Butters asked. 

“I don't know,” Eric said. “All I know is Stan owes me twenty bucks, and you two have to be the witnesses.” 

“Mrph?” Kenny asked as Mr. Mackey swatted at the bird. 

“He told me that he had a dream Mr. Mackey was afraid of birds, but that he was over it. I bet him that he wasn’t, and like always, I’m the winner.” 

As he pushed the man to the ground, he pulled out the candy bar wrapper from his pocket and tossed it in the birds face. “I’ll pollute, m’kay. I’ll do what I want, m’kay.”


	2. Day 2: Psychic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek is a psychic. Totally. He's not high, he's psychic.

“I’m psychic, Craig,” Tweek screamed from the ledge of the balcony of their shared third story apartment. “I saw it, nnn, I saw it. I can fly.” He narrowed his eyes, and leaned towards the open sliding glass door. He was still perched precariously on the railing. Craig didn’t believe him. He could see it on his face. The way his lips turned down, the way his eyes were wider than usual, the arch of his eyebrows; Craig didn’t believe him.

“Honey, you’re high,” Craig held his arms in front of him, like approaching an angry dog. “Just get down, okay? Just get down and we can talk.”

“Oh I'm gonna, man. I'm gonna, gah! I'm gonna fly right down.”

“No, no you're not,” Craig said softly. “Please, please don't.”

“You don't believe me, man! You've never believed me. I'm stronger than you think. Or you're stronger than I think,” Tweek paused, turning to look at the cars in the parking lot below “We're all really strong. That's the point.” 

“Tweek, there's no way you can fly,” Craig argued, inching closer. Tweek knew he was wrong. Sweet, innocent Craig sometimes just didn't know the whole truth. He didn't need to know. 

“Just trust me,” Tweek smiled, blond hair standing on end. “Trust me, Craig.” Tweek turned towards the lot, seeing Craig's broken down blue Toyota with the one red door. He would aim for the car. It was in the far side of the lot. It'd be a good test for flying. 

And he did. He took a deep breath, and jumped towards the car, eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Son of a bitch!” Craig yelled as Tweek flew. He flew all the way from their balcony to the handicap parking space below. He landed with a crack. Tweek looked up from the asphalt and saw the top half of Craig looking down anxiously. 

“Pretty cool, huh?” Tweek asked. “I don't, nnn, I don't know if you can fly though. The visions didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn't fly!” Craig shouted, throwing his arms in the air. “You just jumped and broke your goddamn leg!”

“My legs fine,” Tweek giggled, pushing his hands against the ground. Why were his hands wet? Was it raining? He hadn't predicted that it would rain. He rose to his feet, then immediately collapsed.

“Just sit fucking still!” Craig called down. “I'll get the keys.”

Craig was so afraid that he'd fly away; Tweek could tell. He laughed to himself, looking up when he heard heavy footfall on the concrete stairs. 

“I'd never leave you, Craig,” Tweek reassured him from the ground. “Even if you can't fly.”


End file.
